


Give me the Sword

by Aviss



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Sitting, Smut, Woman on Top, and loves it, based on Wilkinson Ad, jaime gets topped, sword fighting as foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21971191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: Brienne gets home to a nice surprise. Jaime enjoys it as well.Just some smutty fun based on the Wilkinson sword ad.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 42
Kudos: 244





	Give me the Sword

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, there are no redeeming features here. I saw the Wilkinson sword ad and, like everyone else, though it was perfect for Jaime and Brienne, so I had to write it.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aq2m_qKFA7A  
> Don't expect realistic sword fighting here, and of course don't try this at home unless you have Valyrian steel and your own Lion or Maid :)

It was already dusk by the time Brienne made it back to Evenfall, the exhaustion of the long day of negotiations clinging to her like a second skin, the dust of the road making the dress she was wearing look more grey than blue. She dismounted and pulled at the uncomfortable garment, she should have listened to Jaime when he'd said she didn't need to wear it; if the maesters from Oldtown were offended by a woman in breeches they should have gone somewhere else to get the marble for their newest City Hall, except everyone knew there wasn't better marble than the one from Tarth.

Jaime had been right, though, she would have felt more confident in her usual attire, and that would have made it easier for her to stand firm in the established conditions of the trade. She had got the agreed price and the pre-agreed conditions, but they might have finished earlier. That was one lesson she wasn't likely to forget.

Thunder crashed in the distance illuminating the path to the stables in silver light and announcing the approaching storm. The yard was eerily empty, and so were the stables. She left Glory there next to Honor after giving him a quick brush and a treat, and went into the castle. 

The usual bustle of servants was missing, the main corridor dimly lit. She frowned, it wasn't so late that everyone would have gone to bed, and she had wanted to have dinner with Jaime. The Oldtown delegation had arrived a sennight later than expected due to a big storm, and today was her nameday, which she had wanted to celebrate with her husband. 

"Jaime?" she called, her voice echoing in the hall. 

There was no reply, but she heard some movement ahead. Frowning, Brienne kept walking. The soft scrape of metal against rock made her look down to see Oathkeeper sliding in her direction, followed by some footsteps. She looked back up to see a black and red naked blade that could be no other but Widow's Wail.

"Hello, wench," her wayward husband greeted her, a smile on his face. 

_Oh_.She thought, remembering some late-night conversations _. Oh, yes_. Brienne smiled and released the clasps of her cloak, letting it fall to the floor, and bent to pick Oathkeeper. 

"Hello, husband," was all she could say before he attacked. 

He lunged, his sword steady in his left hand, the years of training together before and after the Long Night showing in the sureness of his hand. Brienne blocked the first lunge, the sound of their steel clashing a beautiful song resonating in the hall. 

Jaime jumped back, giving her space to take him in; she hadn't seen him all day, after all, she had missed his dear form. He did the same, his beautiful green eyes roaming all over her, his gaze like a touch warming her skin. 

He had let his hair grow in the last moons and it was again a golden mess of curls falling to his shoulders, though there were some white hairs intersected there now, which Brienne had delighted discovering at night when they were in bed. His beard had even more grey in it, and the lines of age bracketing his eyes and mouth made him look distinguished now he was past his fortieth nameday. He didn't really look it, he was still as toned and healthy as ever, and even more attractive for the character they gave him. 

He was wearing Lannister crimson, something that made Brienne's brows rose, the rich velvet doublet with the gold trim he had worn to their wedding and which he had sworn to never wear again in public. He had kept his word, avoiding the colour and choosing to wear either neutral attire of the pink and azure of Tarth if a more formal occasion required it. 

Jaime lunged again and Brienne blocked him, once, twice, three times until he took a step back and twisted his hips, pivoting and coming at her from a different angle. Brienne parried this hits as well, her blood singing in her veins, her skin alive and a savage grin on her mouth to mirror his.

"Good negotiations?" he asked, their swords locked and their faces close enough she could see the freckles of brown in his green eyes. 

"I got the full price," she admitted proudly.

"I knew you would." 

Still looking into her eyes Jaime moved away and slashed down, his mouth ticking up on a mischievous smile. Brienne felt the soft scratch of Widow's Wail over the skin of her thigh, the cold air hitting now her skin and she looked down to see a huge rent on the skirt of her dress, one that would require a very skilled seamstress to fix, if it could be fixed. She looked back up a Jaime, then again at the dress and suddenly realized what his intentions were.

If it had been someone less skilled with the blade or they had been using other steel, Brienne might have felt fear; as it was, she felt a low simmer of arousal settle in her gut. Jaime's eyes darkened in response to her look. She lowered the point of Oathkeeper and grabbed the edges of the hole in her skirt, moving her leg through it and ripping the last inch apart. Jaime took a deep breath and licked his lips, circling her.

"Where are the servants?" Brienne asked, moving to always keep Jaime on her sights.

"I gave them the night off, there's nobody but us here."

"What about dinner?"

"I'm looking at it."

She moved then, a deep lunge that brought her face to face with him, Jaime parried and she pushed harder. He was faster, but she was stronger and had a longer reach she was going to take full advantage of. Jaime pushed back to keep some distance between them and that was the opening Brienne had been looking for, she slashed at his midriff, Oathkeeper parting the heavy velvet as if it was silk. Jaime stopped and looked down at the cut, then up at Brienne, the green of his eyes almost swallowed by the black of his pupils. 

He handed her Widow's Wail and she held it carefully as he let the torn garment fall from his shoulders, revealing an almost threadbare undershirt opened wide at the collar and showing a dusting of silvering hair on his chest and a tantalizing peek of his dusky nipples, already peaked. It was Brienne's turn to lick her lips, a gesture Jaime didn't miss. She handed the sword back to him and quick as a snake Jaime struck again, the tip of his sword parting the cloth between her breasts. She had not even felt the steel, just heard the ripping of the fabric and Jaime's chiming laugh. 

She flushed, noticing her own nipples were hard now and brushing against the ruined dress, and attacked. They moved deeper into the castle as they crossed swords, towards the staircase leading to their apartments, he managed another two rips on her skirt by the time they were at the foot of the stairs and Brienne got the undershirt to part completely, showing his toned and tanned torso. 

They were both breathing heavily; the simmer had turned into a bonfire, Brienne was positive she was soaking her undergarments and his breeches showed a very obvious bulge. They kept fighting, the slide and step of their usual spars, the ease of being in each other's space, each brush of their bodies together, the absolute trust not only in each other's intentions but also skills, all that only adding fuel to the fire raging between them. They reached the first landing, their swords locked between their bodies again, and Brienne leaned forward in the V created by the blades and stole a quick kiss, barely a peck, but enough to make them both moan. She pushed him away with her left hand and Jaime winked at her as his sword came down, her dress completely open on the front. 

"You could have just told me you hated the dress, Jaime."

"It's more fun this way."

It was, it really was. She pointed Oarthkeeper to his breeches, her intention clear. She had been reduced to just her smallclothes, a trail of ruined clothing marking their progress through the castle. The silken garments hid nothing and she always thought made her look more like a man, too delicate on her coarse body. Jaime didn't agree with her if the way his eyes were devouring her, almost completely black, a flush taking up residence on his face. Brienne walked slowly towards him and Jaime took a step back for each one of hers until his back was to the wall. Brienne lifted Oathkeeper and set it against his throat for a moment, their eyes intent on each other, then moved it down until it caught the waistband of his breeches. Jaime didn't bother to look down, his eyes fixed on her, his breathing choppy. She leaned forward and captured his lips, the flat of the blade pressed between the two of them. He opened his mouth for her, not moving anything but his lips and tongue against hers, and sighed when she pulled back, moving away with a laugh as his breeches fell to his knees. 

Jaime grinned at her, Brienne ran up the stairs as he stepped away from the ruined breeches and followed her, his smallclothes not hiding how much he was enjoying this. 

They kept sparring all the way to their bedroom, just circling and advancing and letting their swords kiss the way they both wanted to kiss each other. Brienne had rarely felt as alive as she did now, the blood rushing in her veins, her breathing rapid and shallow.

Then they were finally in their rooms, Brienne closed the door with a kick, not taking her eyes off Jaime until she had him where she wanted him. Of maybe where he wanted to be, Jaime had that satisfied smile on his face she always wanted to wipe unless she had been the one to put it there. 

She lifted her sword to his face and he let his fall, "Do you yield?"

"To you? _Always_."

She dropped Oathkeeper and held his head, kissing him hard, deep and hungry. Jaime opened to her, going almost limp in her arms, a groan torn from his throat. She kissed him and kissed him until her own knees felt about to give out. She pulled away and pushed him back, Jaime let himself fall on top of the bed looking up at her with naked yearning in his eyes. 

"You are mine," she said, Jaime shivered at her low tone and whatever he saw in her expression. Probably the same hunger that was in his. "What am I going to do with you?"

She climbed on the bed and straddled him, still not touching his body. 

"Anything you want."

Brienne bent over and kissed him briefly, when she straightened she moved up until her knees were level with his shoulders. 

" _Oh yes_ ," Jaime moaned like she knew he would. 

This was a treat for both of them. 

She was going to remove her smallclothes but Jaime's hand covered hers. "Leave it for now."

She lowered herself then until her cunt was just over Jaime's face, he leaned up the last inch, his lips finding her nub with an uncanny aim. He sucked at it through the soaked cloth, the feeling not as intense as usual, but more maddening. He didn't employ his usual tricks, as if he had forgotten them in his eagerness to get his mouth on her. 

"You are so wet, wench," he said against her, his voice muffled. "We have to fight like this more often."

He moved his hand then, shifting the fabric of her smallclothes aside and pushing his fingers inside of her, still sucking on her nub. Brienne's knees were weak now, her moans loud in the room, she leaned forward and put her hands on the headboard of the bed to keep herself upright. 

"Jaime," she groaned when he twisted his fingers inside of her just so, making her entire body convulse, her peak so close she could almost taste it. "Jaime, I can't--"

He kept at it until the only thing keeping Brienne from crushing him was her hold on the headboard while she shook, the tension almost overwhelming, then he pushed a third finger inside her, pressing against that place inside insistently until she couldn't hold herself anymore and shouted, sliding down and almost crushing him between her thighs.

She had worried about him the first times they'd done this, fearful she would hurt him if she lost herself in the feeling. Jaime always smiled and told her it would be the best way to go, but he knew she wouldn't.

He was smiling smugly when she was coordinated enough to move away from his face, crawling down his body until she could kiss him again, taste herself on his tongue and push her soaking wet cunt against the bulge in his smallclothes. She kissed him, rubbing herself against him slowly, maddeningly, swallowing his moans while he held on to her. 

Finally, she pulled back to take a breath, "Help me?" she said, and Jaime did, pulling at the fabric until she was completely bare on top of his, his hand going straight to her breast, covering it entirely. "Yours too," she added before she became too distracted.

They managed between the two of them, Brienne took a moment to just look at her husband, the golden lion, the most beautiful man in the world. He was all of that, with his perfect body and face, his marred skin peppered with scars from too many wars, his stump which she loved as much as she loved every other part of him.

He was hers. Shockingly, unfailingly hers since that day in Pennytree when he had trusted her with his life. 

"I love you," she said, it was the truth, and the way his entire face lit up at the words made it worth it to repeat as often as she could. 

"Me, too," he said, his smile the most beautiful thing about him. 

Brienne climbed over him again, this time rubbing his naked cock against her cunt while she kissed him, feeling him tremble against her. She held him and moved until she could sink down and take him inside of her, both of them groaning at the feeling. He cupped her breast again, pinching her nipple as Brienne slowly began to move over him, fucking herself on his cock. The first time they had done this, all those years ago, Brienne had blushed nonstop at the way he looked at her, how he could see everything of her. She had thought he would not enjoy it if she had that much control, that he couldn't pretend it was someone else if he could see that much of her. He had been quick to show her that he loved her taking control and that there was nobody else he'd rather have on top of him. 

It had become their favourite position, and Brienne loved nothing more than feeling Jaime buried inside of her as deep as he could go, looking at his face while she gave him pleasure and took it from him. She could tell by now how long he could go by the flush of his cheeks and the way his mouth went slack, she could just dip down and taste his lips and he would moan and rut up against her. He wasn't going to last today, but that was fine, she had already climaxed before and could feel it building again inside her as she moved. Jaime took his hand from her breast and slid it between their bodies, his fingers finding her nub and pressing against it while she moved. "Come on, wench, I want to feel you."

He pressed harder with his fingers and pushed up with his hips and Brienne let herself fall forward, her forehead against his, their mouths together but not kissing, just sharing breath. They picked up the pace, breathing faster and movements becoming uncontrolled until she felt Jaime tense under her, his mouth open and his eyes scrunched shut. He didn't stop rubbing against her nub, though, not until she shook and froze and removed his hand herself when it became uncomfortably too much. 

She finally flopped on the bed next to him and curled against his side, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "That was--"

"Something we should do more often," he said, his voice sated and sleepy and so self-satisfied. Not that he wasn't right, but they couldn't, unfortunately, have the castle to themselves all that often. "Happy nameday, sweetling."

"Thank you," she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and burrowed closer against his side. "Don't fall asleep, Jaime, you need to pick up ur clothes before the servants come back." She passed her arms around him and held him tightly to her body, making it impossible for him to move. "And I'm still hungry."

"Don't worry, wench," he said with a chuckle, turning in her arms until he was looking at her, his eyes impossibly soft. "The night has just begun."

…


End file.
